


Like an Optical Illusion

by zovinar



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Ensemble Cast, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zovinar/pseuds/zovinar
Summary: Now you see it, now you don’t.It’s not like they should’ve seen this coming or should’ve known. It’s just that when it was going on, they should have actuallynoticed.





	Like an Optical Illusion

Lavi probably wasn’t the first to know, but he may have been the first to figure out that something was happening. He did have a good vantage point after all. Despite how many people like Allen, most wouldn’t risk sitting next to him in the dining hall. And it’s not just because their meal might end up being devoured in Allen’s mad quest to eat as much as possible at once.

Lavi watches dispassionately as Kanda stomps over, shoves a researcher out of his seat, then drop his food down with a huff.

Honestly, Lujun should have know better. The only time Kanda doesn’t sit at the end of a table is when he has one all to himself. Also, he’s recently picked up the habit of sitting across from Allen so that they can bitch at each other.

“God Kanda, why do you have to be an ass at every conceivable moment.”

Oh, silly Allen. Kanda never answers questions he doesn’t want to.

“If you don’t clean up your disengagement pattern, you’re gonna fall on your face and I will laugh over your corpse.” Normally that would be a blatant lie, but Kanda has actually been known to laugh at other people’s pain. Occasionally.

“Oh but Kanda, wouldn’t you catch me?” Allen simpers. “I’m sure that the only reason you’d do so would be to sate your enormous ego, but I still have faith in you.”

Kanda snorts. “Right. If you’re actually stupid enough to get your sword stuck in an akuma, you deserve it.”

“It’s so nice to know that you care.” Allen’s smile is sickly sweet.

Kanda hates sweets. He kicks Allen under the table.

“ _Ouch_ , fuck. You’re such a dick.”

“Everyone knows you don’t fucking let go of your weapon in a fight except you. And yours is your fucking _arm.”_ Kanda shoots him a nasty look in between bites. “Only you’re stupid enough to lose track of something that's supposed to be attached to you.” He points his chopsticks across the table for emphasis, “imbecile.”

Allen just rolls his eyes. “Like I haven’t seen you chuck Mugen across a battlefield before.”

Kanda slams a hand down on the table and starts to yell, startling Lavi out of his light doze.

He’s had a night, ok? His mission with Kory and Lenalee didn’t get in until practically morning and he just kinda wants to go back to bed. Listening to these two argue like they’re about to go for each other’s throats (as per usual) does get the adrenaline kicking, but not quite enough for him to keep up.

He thinks the current thread is something about the difference between doing things for shits and giggles and a practiced maneuver? Yeah, that sounds enough like something Kanda usually yells at Allen about. A lot.

You know, most people in the Order have this odd notion that Kanda hates talking, would rather ignore you than not. Which, ok Lavi’ll give them that, he’d probably rather ignore you, but that’s not because he doesn’t want to talk; it’s because he doesn’t care. Kanda’s perfectly willing to go on and on listing all your character flaws and how much he thinks you’re an idiot at great length and volume when you’re short, aggravating, and actually able to make conversation with him without shitting your pants.

‘S probably why he got on so well with Lena.

He pays for drifting off again when Allen elbows Lavi in the face as he waves his arms in exasperation.

“Right! Right, exactly, I’m absolutely sure that in my great incompetence I’ll die far sooner than you ever will!” Ouch Allen.

Kanda throws his chopsticks at Allen’s face.

“You have the communication skills of a five-year-old!”

“I’d be more fucking offended if everything you said wasn’t a pile of garbage. Are you even capable of having a conversation without bullshitting someone at least once?”

“I’m gonna beat the God damned _piss_ outta you next time ‘n rub your face ‘n the dirt!” Allen’s getting really red in the face now. C’mon Sprout, gotta watch that blood pressure.

Kanda leans forwards and snarls. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is beansprout.”

And then both of them freeze. Allen’s face slowly lights up with undisguised glee while Kanda looks more and more like he’s just stabbed himself in the foot.

“Shit.”

Kanda vaults over the table, lands, and sprints out of the hall at full speed.

Allen cackles and steals Kanda’s unfinished soba. When he strolls off, he’s still grinning.

Lavi blinks at the two empty seats.

Huh.

 

* * *

 

None of the finders ever use a training room if Allen and Kanda are in it; they don’t even go near it. There is, in fact, a highly sophisticated and efficient chain of communication that they use to avert any accidental incidents. The last time someone was unlucky enough to happen upon them, they ended up with 180 pounds of pissed off exorcist being kicked into them. And a fractured skull.

Actually, the only person who ever voluntarily interrupts one of their sessions is Lenalee because she’s a crazy person. The science department and half of the exorcists would never believe it, but the finders actually go on missions with her. They know.  

Recently, they’ve really tightened up their network. No one wants to end up in one of those rooms.

 

* * *

 

Lenalee blinks. She’d just come down to the medical ward to pick up some papers for Koumi; she hadn’t expected this.

“Allen, are you ok?”

He looks up from where he been glaring at the wall and Lenalee sees his hands are tucked up against the side of the bed and…

“Are those handcuffs?”

Allen looks extremely indignant. “No,” he hisses, puffing up like an irate pigeon, “he just took one of those metal bars and wrapped it around my wrists.”

“I see. And why would Kanda do that?”

His face goes through a few nasty expressions before he grinds out, “he says I need _bed rest_ so I’ll be less useless.”

Lenalee furrows her brow and steps further into the room to rest a hand on Allen’s knee. “Did something happen?”

He hedges before mumbling, “I may have bruised a few ribs.”

“Allen.”

A pause, then, “some of them might be fractured,” he admits.

“Allen!”

“It’s not like it’s that bad! And you know there’s not much they can really do about cracked ribs anyway!”

“I think,” Lenalee huffs, then straightens and shuffles the papers in her hands, “he might have a point this time. It may be for the best if you get some rest.” She gives him a warm smile before turning to leave.

“Wait, Lena—hey!”

 

* * *

 

Something smashes up against the walls hard enough to shake them.

Link checks his watch.

The tremors break off to be replaced by a screech, then muffled swearing.

It’s not exactly in his assignment to leave Walker unattended for any length of time, but Link had judged that directly supervising his and Kanda’s spars was neither necessary nor good for his own health.

The finders have fervently recommended that he wait outside and Link had decided to take their advice. Besides, he’s quite sure that Kanda would take just about any excuse to injure him in some way.

The door suddenly flies open, bounces off the wall, and almost shuts of its own accord. Link, delicately so as to not further damage the hinges, pulls the door back open to glance inside.

Walker has a smear of blood on his face from a cut in his lip and he's covered in scrapes and has finger shaped bruises on his neck. A grappling match today then.

He also, as usual, looks unbearably smug. “I think we're done for today!” He chirps as he skips over. Link has learned to distrust that look.

He raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t it a tad earlier than usu—”

“—ing _bitch!”_ Oh, it looks like he did cut it a bit short.

Walker seems to almost glow as he makes a show of tossing his hair over his shoulder.

“Feel free to swing by when you can finally fucking stand!”

Walker beams at Link and kicks the door shut after him. “We should run.”

They do.

 

* * *

 

Now that they’re hooked up to the Ark, the Asia Branch sees many more exorcists come through its doors. Still, the habit of welcoming any visitors is a hard one to break—the turnout to meet Walker after his mission is more of a welcoming party than anything else. Bak learns that day how much of his staff has spent any time at all at the European Branch.

When Walker almost falls through the doorway, barely catching himself before shooting a poisonous glare at the Ark, a number of people take a generous step back. When Kanda steps through and punches Allen Walker straight in the mouth, those people leave. The general outcry from everyone else is startled and loud, researchers surging forwards to try and intervene. Bak sort of wants to cry.

“The next time you try something like that I’m gonna _cut off your legs.”_

Walker seems more concerned about making sure all his teeth are intact than with the homicidal exorcist with a sword.

“What was even the point of doing that you little shit, what were you thinking? I told you to watch your fucking disengagement sequence moron!”

Yeah, Bak can definitely tell who has any experience with this kind of thing. Most people look downright appalled at the sight of the two of them. Not to say that the exorcists aren’t an even more distressing sight to look at than usual, though.

Walker’s right shoulder is an angry, swollen red and there are puckered abrasions and bruises all along his ribs, all of which is pretty evident as most of his uniform on that side looks like it’s melted off. He’s also missing most of his left boot and his jacket which, while present, seems more scorched than not. Kanda’s not much better, his uniform is in what could be generously called tatters around his waist and everything below is drenched in blood. Which is probably because it looks like someone actually tried to cut him in half. He’s leaving red smears behind him because the area over his hip is still gushing a little.

To top all of that, Kanda’s yelling down at Walker, who’s currently sitting on the ground and spitting up a mouthful of blood, looking murderous. Bak can understand why this is pretty upsetting to most of his branch. The floor may never be the same.

“You’re goddamn lucky you didn’t rip your fucking arm straight off! _Dipshit,_ why the fuck would you exacerbate an injury like—”

“Fuck off.”

_“What.”_

Walker surges forwards. “I said. _Fuck. Off.”_ He snarls straight in Kanda’s face; one hand (the left one Bak notes) fisted in Kanda’s collar.

Kanda headbutts him. Using the space when he stumbles back, Kanda knees Walker in the diaphragm then sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor.

Kanda steps over Walker’s body on his way out of the room. “Make sure you drug the dumbass when you fix his shoulder.” He doesn’t even spare a glance behind him as he stomps off.

Even Lo Fwa and the others, who would usually be the first to help, are keeping their distance; uncertain if they should offer assistance or get the hell out while they still can. Bak understands. The sewage pouring out of Allen Walker's mouth right now is terrifyingly impressive.

When he finally does track Kanda down, Bak finds him with medical—which is beyond surprising, he’s actually letting the staff bandage him up a bit. What isn’t is that he seems to only be allowing the nurse to suture the gash over his hip so he can list off every injury Walker acquired on their last mission as some form of retribution for slights committed.

“Seriously, make sure you sedate him when relocating his shoulder. He’s gonna cry like a baby _because he wouldn’t let me do it yesterday._ Fucker.”

(He goes to see Walker after he wakes up. When Bak mentions what Kanda said, Walker makes a face like a wet cat.

“He sat on me and told me to not to be a bitch so I kicked him in the face. If he’d actually _said_ anything about my shoulder, maybe I would have let him help.”)

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jerry’s used to Allen’s habits by now but this is pretty odd.

“Yes, ten orders please.”

Jerry peers at him, a finger tapping on his chin. “I thought you weren’t exactly fond of soba Allen. Especially, ah, not this much.”

Allen smiles with a satisfied look. “Kanda,” he relishes over the word, “is currently being bullied by Head Nurse because he has bruised kidneys, several crushed fingers, and a broken collarbone.” He smiles to himself, “I, on the other hand, will be sitting on the other side of the room and enjoying a delicious meal; keeping him company _like a good friend_.” The last part is delivered with the deliberate emphasis of gleeful spite.

Oh this won’t end well.

“Allen,” please see sense, Jerry hopes, “are you absolutely sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, very much so.” He looks far too pleased dispite of the absolute chaos this is bound to lead to.

“Okay Allen…”

Jerry throws in an extra pair of chopsticks for Kanda because he knows better than to fight the inevitable.

 

* * *

 

“—s dick so hard.”

Lenalee looks kind of pained. Admittedly, Kanda might not actually use his dick for much but Lavi’s pretty sure he’d still beat the shit outta Allen if he did anything to it. Whatever’s going on over there is a disaster waiting to happen.

He’d come over mainly because he’d wanted the gossip and everyone knows better than to go after Kanda when he's done something as dramatic as kick Allen through a bench. And a table.

Anyway, Lavi’s starting to regret it because Allen has a blissed out look that usually means candy but here leans more towards pandemonium in the coming hours and no one being able to eat dinner tonight.

Allen calls it “divine retribution.” Kanda calls it petty. The rest of them call it terrifying and try not to get involved. Lena used to call it “flirting” and laugh it off but these days she usually mutters something about squabbles while looking sorta pissed.

“Allen, the rest of us don’t want to be involved in your spat.” Oh yeah, that's the face.

“If he’s gonna pull this kinda thing in public, you can't blame me for collateral damage.”

“We both know Kanda doesn’t solve problems with anything other than excessive violence, Allen. Fix your goddamn shit and don’t pull us in the middle of it.”

Hmm. Lavi's just gonna leave.

 

* * *

 

Apparently, it doesn't help because two days later it’s Lavi who catches them in the hall because the world hates him.

It was the low pitched hiss that caught his attention as he passed and, curious as ever, he’d padded over on quiet feet out of habit more than anything else.

It’s not really a surprise to find Kanda and Allen having some kind of disagreement, but something about it has Lavi frowning and keeping out of sight as he edges closer.

They’re tucked in one of the corners where Kanda’s backed Allen into a wall, having a fierce but quiet argument (for once) and Kanda hisses something as he rests a hand on Mugen for a moment, then makes a cutting gesture. Allen rolls his shoulders in a languid shrug that leaves one shoulder up and says something that’s probably sarcastic, derisive, or both from the way Kanda growls and steps in closer to loom even more.

None of that’s anything new, but it rankles all the same. A charged feeling in the air and it pings Lavi’s attention, the odd feeling getting stronger and more unsettling…

It’s just something in the way they were leaning into each other; Kanda wrapping a hand around Allen’s neck, thumb pushing his chin up—Kanda wearing a stormy, intense expression that’s not quite rage—not really boxing Allen in but with a curve to his stance that screams “trapped” and Allen with his palms against the wall—not bracing but not resting on it either—a sly look on his face and a sharp smile with just a hint of smug that curls his lips, tilting his head then arching his back ever so slightly as his chest pushes up—and then some of Kanda’s hair trickles over his shoulder to sway in between them and…

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh fuck he needs to find Lena.

 

* * *

 

Kanda snatches the file out of Koumi’s hand with a growl and twaps Allen upside the head with it as he storms out. Allen, naturally, trips him and then shoves Kanda into the door. The resulting scuffle somehow ends up with the both of them leaving the office with only a broken picture as a casualty. Looks like the doorframe got off easy today.

Koumi takes a delicate sip from his mug. A bang and several thuds later it quiets down.

Reever taps the ash off of his cigarette. “It's nice to see them getting along.”

It’d been a deft move, but they'd both noticed Kanda fishing out the inventory lists, maps, and transportation forms out from the briefing before he threw it at Allen. Personal reports, local notes, additional background reading leaving the folder with enough heft to warrant Allen's shout.

A few minutes peace is all the time they have before Lavi bursts into the room. Koumi takes a moment to mourn—ah, doorframe. We hardly knew ye.

_“Who had money on sex!?”_

Koumi carefully sets down his mug, props his elbows on his desk, and laces his fingers together. “Pardon?” That is a very daunting question that Koumi is very much so uninclined to try and parse without more information.

“Shit, they were just here weren’t they? Oh God how did we not notice.”

Miranda trails into the room listlessly. “I was blind and now I see,” she murmurs.

“Look, where’s the betting roster for how Allen and Yuu were eventually gonna kill each other?” Lavi’s voice has a hysterical tinge to it near the end.

Ah. Hm.

The door bangs open again and person after person spills in; the crowd of people somewhere between panicked and horrified. That is, all but Marie and Lenalee who seem to have been swept up in the commotion. Marie looks bemused; Lenalee just looks bored.

“Someone check the books!”

“Where’s the ledger?”

“No way someone actually had odds on that.”

The frantic voices swell in shrill denials and muffled prayers.

It’s Johnny who finally digs it out, carrying the heavy tome of bets and rankings over like it’s the Grail itself. He reverently lays in on Koumi’s desk and begins to delicately page through, people hovering over his shoulders with anxious trepidation.

When they finally find it, a hush falls over the crowd.

“No…” is someone’s aghast whisper.

Scrawled at the bottom of a page is a wager written in a careless yet elegant script.

_They're gonna fuck and all of you will cry._  
_ –Cross _

Pandemonium breaks loose.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao yeah my other ship manifesto.
> 
> runs against my other work “[A Modest Proposal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308671)” which is a very different take on this shitshow of a ship.


End file.
